Just a 30 minute ride
by Romalde
Summary: AU. Dean is driving his baby through the rain when he notices a certain trench coated figure walking along the road.
1. Chapter 1

The rain was pounding down on my car so hard that, no matter how fast I made the windshield wipers go, I could only see properly for about half a second. The front lights of my car lit up the droplets of water in front of me, the forest to both sides mostly obscured from vision. I was going ten miles per hour out of sheer fear of crashing my baby into another car, or a tree, or a lamp post. Honestly, I liked my share of rain every now and then, but this was just overdoing it.  
Aerosmith was booming from my radio, which I had tuned in to the only decent channel in the area, and I was singing along off key, but I didn't care. It wasn't like anyone was there to call me out on it anyway.  
I drove along with my amazing speed, headbanging to the music so enthusiastically I almost missed a figure walking on the side of the road. A flash of a drenched trench coat went by my window and I silently pitied the guy filling it. We were miles away from any form of civilization, so he would have a long time to walk through this crappy weather still.  
Before I knew what I was doing my foot was flat down on the brake and I was putting my baby in reverse, driving backwards to the trench coat in the rain. I leaned over as my car drew to a stop and rolled down the window on the passenger side, turning down the radio simultaneously.  
"Hey," I said loudly to make myself heard over the rain, "need a ride?"  
The trench coat bent down and looked into my car. I could see a mop of dark hair that looked tussled even when sticking to his head, and bright blue eyes. He looked puzzled.  
"I will drench your car," he said in a low, gravelly voice that seemed out of place coming from his small frame.  
"No worries," I said, even though he brought up a valid point. I reached to the back of the car and pulled some plastic bags from the relative junk there. "See? Completely waterproof!" I said with my most winning smile, laying out the bags on the passenger seat. He seemed to consider my offer for a while.  
"Very well then," he said and got in quickly.  
"Name's Dean," I said, turning up the heat and urging the car to the incredible speed of ten miles per hour again.  
"Hello Dean," the trench coat said. "My name is Castiel."  
"Well nice to meet ya, Cas," I replied. We drove on a bit in silence, the radio now softly playing a Kansas song in the background, until we reached the edge of town.  
"Where to?" I asked, glancing over at Cas the trench coat, through my rear view mirror. I could only catch a glimpse of his dark hair that, now that it was drying a bit, seemed somehow tussled to look that way on purpose. Like a hairdresser had spent a good ten minutes styling it to look just so.  
" The corner of Main and Williams Street will be perfectly adequate, thank you," the man replied.  
"You're kidding, right?" I said. "I live on Williams street. Which number?"  
"Thirty one," he said with that deadpan voice and face of his.  
"Thirty two," I said incredulously, smacking my hand on the steering wheel. "How come we've never met before if we live right across the street from each other?"  
"Most likely because our respective jobs have different working hours, or we have biorhythms that prevent us from being outside simultaneously."  
I gaped. "That was rhetorical."  
He looked at me. "Oh."  
This guy seemed to be incredibly unnerving, but what made it even more so was that I didn't mind. As a matter of fact, I found myself chuckling at the obvious lack of social skills of this man, finding it endearing. I suddenly wondered whether he would look at me strangely if I tried to come on to him. _Of course he will, Dean,_ I scolded myself. I just picked him up in the middle of nowhere and invited him into my car. The guy would think I was some kind of messed up rapist. Didn't mean I wasn't going to try though. I just had to be careful about it.  
Our street was at the other end of town, so we still had about a good twenty minutes to go before we reached our respective homes. Kansas had made way for some dreary love song on the radio, so I switched it off.  
"So tell me, Cas, how does a man end up on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere on a rainy night like this?" I asked, trying to strike some conversation.  
"I missed the last bus because I was working overtime. And you? What makes a man decide to pick up a stranger on the side of the road? I could be a serial killer." He replied. I smirked; this was my opening.  
"Well, I couldn't leave such a pair of gorgeous blue eyes out in the rain, now could I?"  
Castiel looked puzzled.  
"You were driving up from behind me. There was no way that you could have seen the color of my eyes before-"  
"Just take the compliment, man." I sighed, still slightly smirking.  
"Oh," Cas the trench coat said. "Thank you." When I looked over, I saw the slightest hint of a blush. Bingo.  
"Besides, it's pouring out there and you would have taken at least another hour and a half to reach even the edge of town." The man nodded. This apparently seemed like the more plausible explanation.  
After that, a dam had opened. It turned out that Castiel, the socially awkward man in a trench coat, was an astronomer. His job included staring at stars, which was why his job was so far out in the middle of nowhere. The 'local' telescope was built far away from any interfering city lights. I told him about my job in return, explaining what my position as site manager in the main branch of a callcenter entails.  
"You're a site manager?" He asked curiously, looking at me.  
"Yeah, so?" I said, not understanding what he was hinting at.  
"You just don't look like the type of person to be one," he explained, and I laughed. It wasn't the first time I had that reaction when I told people about my job. After all, a guy walking around in jeans and AC/DC shirts doesn't exactly scream management position.  
"I get that a lot," I said. "We're very casual at work, and it is actually quite handy from time to time."  
"What do you mean?"  
"Well, half of the people working there often don't realize I'm the big chief, so I get to peek around without everyone flipping out, or changing their entire work method the moment they see me coming."  
Castiel nodded and we continued talking about… well, everything. Halfway through an existential argument which was way above my usual level of involvement in the matters of the world, I realized this guy was actually easy to talk to. It hardened my resolve to make sure I would see him again. I inconspicuously started working in innocent touches in our conversations; a light fist against his shoulder, a hand clapped on his leg in laughter when the man said something funny. I even managed to find a perfectly reasonable excuse to wipe some rain off of the man's face. To my satisfaction, every time I noticed a slight reaction. A blush, a stiffening in his posture, but he never pulled away.  
Eventually, I turned into our street and stopped the car in front of Castiels house.  
"Well Cas," I said, "awesome to have met you."  
"Yes," he said, smiling a slightly crooked smile, his head tilted a bit as if in contemplation. "It was an absolute pleasure."  
He was about to reach for the door handle when I grabbed his hand, fumbling for a marker on the dashboard. Before I could think about what I was getting myself into, I scrabbled my phone number in the palm of his hand.  
"Call me, okay?" I said, the cap of the marker clenched between my teeth while I wrote down the last digits. Cas stared at his hand in wonder when I was done and gave a non-descript nod before climbing out of the car and walking up to his house. I parked my baby in the garage and as the garage door closed again, I was having a hard time staying calm. I may just have met a great dude, and I could only hope that he would call me.  
_Stop being such a girl,_ I scolded myself.  
I got into the kitchen, walked up to the fridge to get myself a beer and found I couldn't stop myself from smiling. I had just popped open the bottle of beer and settled myself on the couch when my phone started buzzing in my pocket. I checked the number, but it wasn't known to me.  
"Dean speaking," I answered my phone. I immediately recognized the gravelly voice on the other side of the line.  
"I appear to have forgotten my keys at work."  
"You're locked out?" I asked, forgetting about being exhilarated that he called within a minute, and smiling instead because this seemed something that was very typical.  
"Yes," Cas said, "it actually happens more than I would like to admit, but I never knew anyone in the neighborhood before. I was sort of hoping –"  
"Of course! Get over hear before you freeze to death in this weather." During the conversation I had scooted over on the couch a little bit to peer out of the window and I actually saw the trench coated figure standing, slumped, in front of his house, completely soaked once more.  
"Thank you." Was the only reply, before he hung up. The figure in the pouring rain started walking across the street towards my place, and I made my way over to the front door. Not wanting to seem over eager, I waited a couple of seconds before opening it.  
Castiel was walking onto the porch, looking remarkably like a drowned kitten.  
"Is this rain ever going to stop?" He asked me, his voice sounding even gruffer. I smiled the widest grin I could possibly muster.  
"Well, I'm no weather man, but I think you can expect more than a couple of inches tonight."


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel turned out to be something special. The more I saw of him, the more interested I got. His hooded blue eyes were nothing but honest and I liked his smile. It may have been a small smile, but it was always open and unashamed. When he actually laughed, it was sincere and heartfelt, and I felt as if the entire world was good again.

What struck me most however, was the way he listened. I don't think I ever met anyone who hung on words as much as he did. Sure, he would partake in any conversation and voice his opinion no matter whether it lined up with mine or not, but he spent most of his energy on listening, smiling quietly at my jokes.

Picking him up from work became a regular thing, and so did him forgetting his keys at work. He would try to put on a little act – 'oh, silly me, I have forgotten my keys again' – but he was the worst liar ever. I was happy though, and I never called him out on it, instead inviting him over to sleep in the spare bed that I would put up next to my own bed. At a certain point, the keys weren't even mentioned anymore and he would just come home with me.

Nights were spent talking, something I never would have thought myself capable of doing. Normally, I would have been trying to get in his pants the moment I had him anywhere near a horizontal surface, but Cas was… different. He made me happy, and I didn't want to ruin that.

From the looks I received from him, my gut told me that he would be interested and willing, but I would have to go about it differently. If this was going to work out, it wasn't going to be a short fling, I knew – no, I _hoped_ that much. Still, I had to know whether I had a chance with him for sure.

"So," I finally asked one night, while driving home from Cas's job, "what's your type?" My voice was dripping with false casualness and I could only hope he wouldn't notice.

"My type?" Cas asked, apparently completely oblivious to my intentions.

"Yeah, you know. The type of person you would date." My hands were tight on the steering wheel. "What are you into? Chicks? Dudes? Petites? Brunettes?"

"I don't have a 'type', Dean," he said, not being helpful.

"Oh come on, you've got to have some preference," I insisted. He went silent for a little while, apparently deep in thought, trying to provide me with a satisfying response.

"Everyone is my type," he said after a minute, seemingly satisfied with his answer, a small pleased smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"What? No, Cas, it doesn't work like that," I said, confused.

"Why not?" he insisted. "It would be wrong of me to say that no one is my type, as I can definitely feel attraction to people. However, when it comes to gender or other points of physical appearance, I have absolutely no pre-set requirements for a potential partner. So yes, I could indeed say that everyone is my type, Dean."

I was baffled, really. And annoyed. This didn't help me one bit with finding out whether _I_ was someone he could be interested in.

I picked up speed and drove back home. As was now usual, I drove my baby around back without dropping Cas off on the other side of the street and both of us headed into my home. It was a Friday night, so I pulled out a bottle of nice red wine instead of the usual beer and turned on my favorite Alice Cooper album. We sat down at the bar that I had personally built next to my kitchen.

"So how about you?" Cas suddenly asked, as if we hadn't been quiet for the last ten minutes or so. "Do you have a type?" His head was ever so slightly cocked to the side, like it usually was when Cas was thinking something over and was curious about my opinion about it.

I shrugged. "Men, mostly, although there are some women out there for which I'd make an exception." I took a sip of my wine. "I don't really have _requirements_ when it comes to looks, but I do have a distinct preference for blue eyes or brown hair, preferably both."

I glanced over the edge of my glass to see whether Cas picked up on that, and I flushed red when I saw his lips quirk up in a smile. _Smooth, Dean. Real smooth._ As the situation couldn't really get any worse anyway, I downed the last of my wine (and felt my dignity go down with it) and walked up to Cas, holding out my hand.

"Let's dance," I said. His eyes widened in shock.

"Oh, no, Dean, I really can't… I shouldn't… I'm not a very good dancer."

"You don't have a choice," I said, pulling him up and spinning him around. I carefully put my hand on his waist and pulled him a bit closer. I could feel the tension in his body even through the many thick layers of suit he was wearing, heard his panicky breath. He tentatively put his hands on my shoulders.

"See? You can dance!" I said, and was surprised to find that it wasn't exactly a lie. That's to say, he swayed to the music quite nicely and wasn't breaking any of my toes. My dress shirt – which I had to wear for a meeting today – was unbuttoned at the top and I could feel his warm breath on my skin. I tried to make him lean in closer with sheer will power, afraid to do anything more than I was already doing, but he didn't. His head was faced downwards, watching our feet in careful contemplation.

Gathering all my courage, I tipped his head up to meet my eyes, trying to radiate that this was okay, trying to make him comfortable with what we were doing. I could see him swallow, a small hint of pink tongue licking over his bottom lip.

That's when the song decided to end. Cas's hands fled from my shoulders at top speed and I had no choice but to let him go.

"Dizzy," he said, making his way back to one of the stools at the bar. I could believe it; I was quite lightheaded myself, and it had nothing to do with the wine. I wanted to pull him back though, wanted to say that we didn't need a song to dance, but instead, I poured us another glass.

Soon, the bottle was finished, both of us more affected by the alcohol than we would like to admit, and the annoyance about only dancing so shortly reared its ugly head again.

"Are you always this evasive?" I asked, natural inhibitions slightly gone. Besides, no time like the present, right?

"Evasive?" Castiel asked, puzzled. When I explained about the dancing – I was _not_ moping about it! – a small grin appeared on his face.

"When it suits my purpose, yes," he said with a mysterious little smile, and I felt my eyebrows trying to climb up past my hairline. This may have just been the most forward Cas had ever been and I suddenly found myself wishing there was still some of that wine left.

"Purpose?" I asked hoarsely, not even noticing that I was using the same inquisitive tone that Cas usually used.

I didn't miss the longing look Cas sent the empty bottle of wine before he gathered himself, continuing his plan, whatever that may be. He got up and walked around the bar until he was standing right in front of me. Suddenly, his customary two paces inside my personal space seemed very close. I could see all the different hues of blue in his incredible eyes and found myself unable to tear my gaze away. The skin on his face seemed soft and inviting and I couldn't help but thing that it looked like it was carved from marble and breathed to life. His brown hair was jumping out in all directions.

I was rooted to my chair. In all the scenarios in my head, I had always been the one doing the flirting, Cas being more like the helpless little lady, falling prey to my irresistible and trained flirtation skills. Right now though, there was nothing lady-like about the way he was coming on to me. I was suddenly very much aware that his posture was deceptively small and that he could probably overthrow me if he wanted to. I had seen him push up the foldable guest bed to the attic like it weighed nothing.

He got one last step closer to me, towering above me on my chair.

"It worked didn't it?" He said softly, his voice impossibly low. "You seemed to be… disappointed." A crooked grin tugged at the left corner of his mouth. The little shit! It had all been part of an act? No, knowing Cas, he probably thought of it more as an experiment. See how the subject would react to certain conditions, so that the proper course of action could be deduced. Still, how dare he! I wanted to speak up, but I found I still had a lump in my throat. He was impossibly close.

I closed my eyes in automatism as Cas closed the last couple of centimeters between us, the brush of his dry lips soft and tentative despite his aggressive act. A hand found its way to my neck, pulling my face against his harder and I carefully slipped my arms around his waist, hands going up to hook around his shoulders again.

It wasn't long before both of us found the courage to deepen the kiss, weeks of longing, of looking but not touching finally finding a way out. Within seconds, we were panting a bit, finding two hands to suddenly be too few, both pairs eagerly roaming the other's torso.

"Bedroom?" Cas breathed into my mouth, not wanting to pull away.

"Hell yeah," I panted back, just as much out of breath. "No way I'm letting you get the kitchen dirty."


End file.
